


overture in the aftermath

by themonkeytwin



Series: silver and gold [2]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Gen, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-04
Updated: 2013-09-04
Packaged: 2017-12-25 14:36:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/954280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themonkeytwin/pseuds/themonkeytwin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>She took a patient breath. "Jim, why did you send me flowers?"</i>
</p><p>Second in the <b>Silver and Gold</b> series, set after The Second David Job.</p>
            </blockquote>





	overture in the aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> This is a series focused on a slowly-evolving relationship between Maggie and Sterling in the aftermath of the S1 finale, tying it to recognisable events in the show's canon and how that might impact them. It is a vignette-style series (so far), designed to contain enough context that each be able to be read on its own, although they do build together. We're into the back half, but it's a slow burn, and I'm a slow writer.

Less than a week after she'd punched Blackpoole – after helping to rob him blind – Maggie was back at her desk. It was surreal, and a little ... anticlimactic. She didn't condone crime, she didn't; Blackpoole was a special case, emphasis on the special, because of Sam. A case which only thieves seemed willing or able to deal with. No one else got hurt, or even robbed, not really; she wouldn't have gone along with it if there were any chance of that.

But right now, sitting here at her desk with piles of paperwork to wade through, she couldn't deny it had been ... fun. And satisfying as hell.

Of course, the museum was a mess. Dr Lloyd was this close to quitting at least once a day; the press was everywhere, and the cops were everywhere else. And it was her job to help sort out this mess, the irony of which had not escaped her. But that was just Nate, wasn't it, in some form or other? He stormed through her world in his own bubble of insanity, leaving a wake of chaos – and her, to pick up the pieces and rebuild once again.

She sighed, and focused on moving paper from the in-tray to the out-tray. No doubt about it, when it came to paperwork, thieves had the better deal.

"Maggie?" Her assistant nudged the ajar door to her office further open. "Darling, I think you have an admirer."

The words didn't register for a moment – because what on earth was the Rembrandt doing filed under the same policy as the Van Eyck? – but when they did, she looked up to see both his hands full of flowers.

"They just arrived." His delight was more than making up for her momentary confusion. He placed the bouquet on the desk in front of her, the delicate yellow of the blooms in their vase flooding the room with their own sunshine. "Is there a lover we don't know about? How could you hold out on me? I need juicy details!"

"Yellow roses are for friendship, Julio," she said absently, reaching for the card as he looked on avidly, ready to pounce. "Everyone knows that." This was an unexpected gesture, especially considering Nate was supposed to be busy covering tracks, and going to ground until all this blew over. Maybe he'd become more thoughtful than she'd given him credit for – not that that changed anything.

"Please. What are friends for?" At her look, Julio threw his hands up. "Alright, alright. But I _will_ start rumors if you don't tell me all about it later."

She raised her eyebrow in mock irritation. "In the meantime, perhaps you can find me those files I asked for?"

When he closed the door after him, as requested, it dawned on her that the handwriting on the envelope was not Nate's, not unless he'd changed that along with so much else. She broke the envelope open, and drew a surprised breath.

 _NICELY DONE_  
– _JIM_

She looked up at the closed door, as though the departed Julio could somehow shed some light on this, then at the pale golden glory of the blossoms.

A sudden thought had her reaching for her schedule; sure enough, there it was, little over an hour away: IYS meeting. She narrowed her eyes and picked up her phone.

He answered after a few rings. "Sterling."

"Jim," she said pleasantly.

"Ah, Maggie," he replied, as warmly as he ever said anything. "I wasn't expecting to talk to you until later this afternoon. There's nothing wrong, is there? Are you rescheduling our meeting?"

"I didn't realize it would be you." She said it drily. She hadn't forgotten the threat in his voice outside the two _Davids_ room (or "vault", at his insistence), and she didn't know what he was doing yet, but one thing she did know: the only way to avoid losing was refuse to play. Years with Nate had drilled that lesson home, not that playing mind games had ever been that appealing in the first place.

"Well, I'm rather top dog on this case around here. It's amazing what negotiating the return of $150 million in insured items and dispatching corrupt CEOs will do in terms of clout."

"I'm sure."

"So if you're not rescheduling, why did you ..." he asked, and then broke off. "Because of the flowers," he surmised.

"They just arrived."

"You like them?" It was, for all the world, just a friendly question. He didn't sound nervous, or devious, or ... anything but simply glad she'd got them.

"They're beautiful," she said honestly. "But why?"

"'Why'?" he echoed noncommittally.

She took a patient breath. "Jim, why did you send me flowers?"

The silence was a touch longer than she was comfortable with, but when he spoke he didn't seem uncomfortable at all. "I thought they'd speak for themselves. A simple peace overture. I may be a self-serving bastard, but I don't hold foolish grudges. We've worked well with each other in the past, our career paths will cross in the future – this mess alone will take months to clean up. I don't want that relationship to be adversarial. There's no reason for it to be, as far as I'm concerned.... Hence, flowers."

Well, that was all perfectly straightforward. "You did threaten me."

He dismissed this airily. "That was then. And I wasn't threatening so much as giving you an out. It would have been a shame for Nate to drag you down with him in his own insanity."

Maggie felt her lips twitching with a real, if bemused, smile. "And the card?"

He laughed. He actually laughed. "Ah, well. Regardless of how it played out, you did your part magnificently well. I can admire that."

That wrung an answering laugh from her, much to her surprise. "And if it had played out differently? If you hadn't come away with returned masterpieces and more clout than ever?"

His amusement was unapologetic. "I'd still admire it. I probably wouldn't have sent flowers, though."

"Well, I appreciate the honesty.... And the flowers." As she said it, she discovered she really meant it. All of a sudden, the friendship Nate used to have with this man was not so inexplicable.

"Good. Since you have me on the phone now, is there anything I can bring to the meeting to help things along?"

"As a matter of fact, yes. If you could compile a list of independent experts to verify the authenticity of the returned pieces, who would be acceptable to IYS and their clients, we can start that process almost immediately. The sooner the better."

He paused, listening to everything she wasn't saying. "I can do that," he said eventually. "But I hope you're not asking just because you're worried about our confidence in you."

"No," she said a little too quickly. "I mean – it would be understandable –"

"Maggie, I have complete faith in your integrity and ability to verify these pieces." He said it matter-of-factly, but it soothed a little something Maggie hadn't noticed had been sore. Her credibility wasn't as important to her as Sam ... but it was still important.

"Thank you," she said, softer than she intended. She quickly gathered herself and returned to the point. "But I'd still like independent verification. Given the exposure of this whole episode and what happened with Blackpoole, we need to take every precaution we can to allay your clients' fears and maintain the reputation of IYS and the museum. We will also be bringing in outside consultants, and make the process as transparent as possible. I can't see you insisting on anything less, any more than we would."

"True," he said. "I'll have the list of our preferred consultants. Other than you, of course."

She laughed again. "Thank you. With some luck and a lot of work, we may just have this whole thing sorted out in under a year. I can't imagine the volume of paperwork over on your end."

"It's hell," he said wholeheartedly. "Another reason why I will never, ever forgive him. He did it on purpose."

He didn't sound wrathful so much as ... resigned. "You could always quit," she suggested teasingly.

He snorted. "Anyone who thinks winning doesn't cost anything is an idiot. It just doesn't cost as much as losing. Of course, the cost of losing is just speculation on my part. I wouldn't know."

"No, of course not. You know, loss is considered to be an excellent character-building experience."

"I'll pass." Just as she was speculating whether he was inherently droll or if his accent just made him sound that way, he abruptly switched gears on her, just caustic enough to sting. "Well, this is all getting very cosy, but pleasant as this little light flirting is, I do have a lot to get through this afternoon."

"I'm not –" Oh, crap. She _was_. With _Sterling_. Then again, he was too. Never backpedal: another valuable lesson from living with Nate Ford for twenty years. It got you nowhere you wanted to be. She had no reason to be embarrassed. "You're right, that will never do. We'll keep it strictly professional."

There was another pause. "Er ... I'm alright with pleasant," he said, sounding unsettled and a little rueful. Served him right, the weasel.

"I'll see you soon, Jim," she said pleasantly, and hung up, the flowers catching her eye. After a moment, she leaned forward, closed her eyes and flared her nose a little. The fragrance was sweet and mellow and subtle, and her lips curved with pleasure. They _were_ beautiful.

"So?" Julio stuck his head around the door, waving some files as his excuse to enter.

Maggie looked up and smiled, eyes flickering to the card and back to her assistant, then waved him in. "Just a diplomatic gesture from Sterling at IYS, since we're going to be spending a lot of time with them on this. He's coming for the meeting this afternoon."

"The man's got good taste in diplomatic gestures, I'll give him that, even if he is a complete ass. He's totally accessorized the color of your hair."

"Julio, did you know that yellow roses used to smell terrible?"

He gave her a look, then leaned over to smell the flowers. "So what changed?"

"They cross-bred and cultivated them until the scent was as sweet as any other. Persistence and expertise and time, that's all it took."

"Darling, if that's supposed to be a metaphor...."

She smiled and shook her head. "Just a good lesson. Our relationship with IYS could do with a little attention and cultivation right now."

"I could chat him up when he arrives."

"Well who could possibly resist that?"

"No man I've ever met. It'd be taking one for the team, but anything for the world's greatest boss." He grinned, and she returned it.

"Let's start a little slower. Maybe for now just avoid calling him an ass to his face."

"I defer to your expertise. Will you need backup in the meeting this afternoon?"

Maggie glanced at the flowers again. "No.... I think I'll do just fine, actually."


End file.
